Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from "Sons of Anarchy." They are the property of Kurt Sutter and Fox Network. No money is changing hands in the writing, reading or distribution of this story.

Three Princes

A sequel to "Intended"

Chapter 36

"Hey," Clay was right there waiting outside the doorway of the little room Tig had finally been taken back to with a phlebotomist…and a security guard. No one had taken Tig seriously as he'd stood there at the triage desk, shouting demands and holding his arm perfectly straight where it stuck out of the rolled up sleeve of the black, cowboy cut shirt he had on. He looked crazy, he knew he did, but he did most of the time, so he didn't care…looking back it was really the doofus way he had his arm held, fist squeezing veins to the surface, ready and prepped, like someone was just going to lean over the horseshoe shaped desk and pop a needle into a vessel then and there. No one had, of course. In fact, he was told thee different times to go sit down, or security would be called…yeah, like that was something to worry about, fuck security! Joss was in there maybe dying from some kinda bad shit he'd accidentally given her…he needed a blood test! Tig didn't budge, just kept on insisting that he see doctor bitch, until finally, the security officer who had been dispatched, advised that Dr. Knowles be paged again, in surgery. Upon hearing what the problem was, and with whom, doctor bitch shocked the hell out of Tig by agreeing, yes, his blood should be screened. Only doctor bitch probably said that out of some sick, stupid, clinical curiosity…she knew Tig's rep, Jax-hole told his old lady everything, doctor bitch was likely just dying to know what a guy like Tig had swimming around in the murky hell that was his blood. Whatever, a victory was a victory! Jax-hole…ha! But, the look on Clay's face when Tig rounded the corner out of the little room quickly smothered the tender buds of Tig's triumph. Clay grabbed the shoulder of Tig's shirt and spun around with him, pretty fast for an old man, and pinned Tig to the wall. "I'm not the one who usually has to ask this," he began, but then those cold, steely, blue eyes narrowed and his voice sounded more like a growl. "But what the fuck is the matter with you?"

There was way too much going on to be able to understand it all and Clay's reaction was just added into that big, crazy pile. "I don't know," Tig answered as honestly as the mass of confusion in his brain would allow. "They ain't looked at my blood yet, man!"

Clay's face screwed up into a more than frustrated look, "No, Jesus…" he sighed and let go of Tig as he stepped back, scowling at the floor and pounding a fist in its direction through the air. Then he sighed, got himself together again, and looked back at Tig. "Forget about the blood, your blood maybe labeled as a controlled, dangerous substance, but it's fine!" Tig was about to object, cuz there were loads of reasons why his blood wasn't "fine" and therefore, why Joss wasn't "fine" either, but Clay shook his head sharply and Tig was quiet, trying to figure him out. "I mean, what are you doing? You haven't said one God damn word, not even a peep about your wife pulling through this, and then you just start screaming for a blood test? What the hell, bro?"

Oh shit…well…okay, Tig hadn't been all he was supposed to have been being to Joss, or to the club for that matter. But…whoa…had he been knocked catatonic for a few minutes there? Maybe…he didn't really feel like he was…"in" what was happening around him until he charged the triage desk…fuck! But c'mon, he had a good reason, didn't he? "Clay," Tig finally said, eyes lowered and a sincere look of apology in his eyes that got more and more desperate as Tig realized more and more that he'd disappointed Clay…because he'd sort of abandoned Joss. "I never meant to…" damn, it was hard to talk with this lump in his throat…Joss, he really did want to be with her right now, "Joss still in surgery?"

"Yeah, they just took her up about ten minutes ago," Clay's voice was softer, but his eyes were still pissed. "You gonna be able to handle this? Or you wanna go home and let me and the boys handle it?" On the surface it sounded like a supportive gesture, but it wasn't, not at all, the edge that hung heavy in the king's tone made that very much understood.

Tig's head jerked up and his eyes met Clay's with a steadiness he'd lacked since Joss fainted. "I got it," he said confidently, a little bit of a territorial grunt edging his own tone, but it had to be there, to let Clay know that Tig wasn't about to step aside and let anyone else be who or what got Joss through this shit. "She's my old lady," Tig felt himself coming back to himself a little bit more now. "She's my wife; I'm not going anywhere!"

Clay's stare stayed hard, scrutinizing Tig for a long couple of seconds, but then he must have been satisfied. "Good," he said as though it was about damn time…and it was…passed it really. "Now what the hell is with all this shit about blood tests?"

Tig sighed and stood there shaking his head, for the first time in his life, feeling ashamed of his actions and deeds. "Man," he began and looked upwards at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember, but also forget, all the horrible acts he'd perpetrated in just the last year alone. "This hospital, the fucking doctors…they're trying to fix the wrong thing in Joss." Tig said, and tried not to be too flustered by the raised eyebrows and almost aggravated look on Clay's face. "You know what happened to her, I told you…what her shithole father did to her?"

"Tig," Clay sighed again, like this was all unfolding for him now, like it was making sense…good, someone understood…or so Tig thought. "The girl's been an emotional wreck lately that falls apart if she's not near you, she damn near danced a jig of joy because the big, white wedding dress piece of shit was somehow too small now, she's had pain in the side of her belly for weeks, and hell, we've all just seen a positive pregnancy test, and even held an ultra sound photo in our hands of what the problem is." Clay paused, stepping closer to Tig and grasping him by the shoulders firmly. "Son, she's pregn—"

"No, she isn't!" Tig was immediately arguing and stepped away from Clay's reach. "It's something else, something I think she caught from me…I've…been in some…dark holes," he said and it felt so strange to not want to admit that. "I'm probably loaded with shit that could hurt her! I did it, I gave it to her, we just need to find out what the fuck it is so she can get better, but if everyone is going to keep believing she's knoc—"

"Tig, the girl's pregnant, she is!" Clay cut him off brusquely and precisely. "That's what's wrong with her, that's what you did to her, that's what you gave her! And you're the one who has to believe it, now!"

Fuck, what the hell was this? Invasion of the Pod People, or some shit? Why did everyone think Joss was pregnant? She couldn't be pregnant! If she was pregnant, it might change things between them; it might mean the end of what they had together…doctor bitch had said that the baby was lost…lost…lost…the baby was gone, "not viable,"…it was dead. His Bronze Star, the day he'd earned it, the day Joss was born…the same day that kid…that little boy carrying those water containers…the scared, knowing look in his large brown eyes when he'd come upon the hiding place of American soldiers…crosshairs set squarely between little shoulder blades as he ran away…the baby was dead. Everything changed after the baby was dead…all the babies seemed dead, even the two Tig had come home to. No, Joss…please, please, please…she couldn't be pregnant!

"Tig," Clay was talking to him again, only this time he wasn't on his case, he sounded more fatherly than anything else, and he was also squatting down in front of Tig…that was weird…oh…shit, Tig had somehow slid down the wall and was now crouched on the floor, his back to the eggshell colored semi-gloss. Fuck…again? How long was he catatonic this time? Felt like maybe an hour. But Clay hadn't given up on him; he'd stayed right here, likely talking to him like he was now the whole time. "It'll be okay," the king was saying to him, tugging at his arms and hands and cut, trying to get Tig to stand once more, trying to snap him out of it like he knew exactly where Tig was trapped. And maybe Clay did, he'd been in combat before too, he knew what it was to come home and be the monster in his own nightmares. "It'll be okay, I swear it will be," he promised as he assisted Tig in rising from the heap he'd sunk into. "Just face this thing, and it'll be okay."

Face it? Face it? No, Tig couldn't face anymore dead babies; everything died with them, and he loved Joss so fucking much…but now it was all on the line. He crossed his arms over his chest, like he had to physically try to hold his heart in there or it might deflate and fall out of him somehow. "Joss," he started to say, but he wasn't sure what was going to follow it, and his voice failed him anyway.

"Yeah," Clay replied and was nodding his head. "Ain't nothing going to take that girl away from you," he reminded with such wisdom in his voice. "And you know it, so start knowing it!"

Joss…start knowing it…she'd been through a lot of shit with Tig, that Tig had put her through himself…start knowing it…she'd always been there for him, she'd always hung in, even when she didn't fully agree or even understand…start knowing it…she'd married him, he'd seen a dream come true in her eyes at their wedding…start knowing it…she was a lot to get a hold of, she couldn't be controlled if she didn't really want to be…Tig was her "god," but only because Joss had chosen to pray to him to begin with…she worshipped him, she trusted him, she loved him…start knowing it…

Clay's hand was patting Tig's shoulder, then his arms wrapped around him, but Tig still felt like he was made out of stone that was only now beginning to slowly soften. "Yeah," Clay was half whispering, "You've always been the most loyal brother in this club," said his king, patting Tig's shoulder still. "You just stay loyal to what you know and there won't be anything to worry about."

Tig felt himself nodding, in fact, he was beginning to feel a lot of things; the strength in Clay's arms the first and most instantly notable. Clay wasn't going to let him slip into that same pit of a dungeon that Tig had fallen into after Africa…things were different now, Tig wasn't even the same man now as he was then…shit, how long had it even been since anyone close to him had called him "Alex?" And Joss…whoa…doctor bitch was right, Joss was unlike anyone else, woman or man…and she was his wife, too! Joss…his sweet, beautiful, perfect, dark angel was in surgery…damn it, Tig ached to wrap his arms around her and just hold her, inhaling the vanilla orchid scent of her hair, memorizing every inch of her satiny skin, feeling the love they had for each other flooding into one another and running wild. He'd have to wait though…but he had plenty to do until then, and it was all about being Joss's "god" and seeing her the hell through this! "Yeah," Tig finally answered and stood up on his own once more, shoulders pushed out, back straight. "Let's go back; club's probably all wondering all the same shit you were."

"Don't worry about it," Clay smiled a bit, and was about to explain when the set of double doors at the end of the hallway they'd been walking towards suddenly opened, and there stood doctor bitch, holding a chart.

She was really interested in that chart, flipping pages quickly, quirking an eyebrow, following something along with her finger, and when she looked down the hallway, her eyes stopped on Tig, a weird look on her face. "Tig," she said, running the last few steps towards him so she didn't have to yell and make whatever it was known to everyone. She hugged the clipboard to her chest, a look of astonishment on her face. "Your blood work's back. We need to talk."